


Measles

by lilyseyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:31:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyseyes/pseuds/lilyseyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people exposed to the measles are quarantined together and find they have more in common than illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Measles

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fist fest fic I ever wrote - circa 2005ish  
> Quote Used: “There is no instinct like that of the heart.”   
> Betas: **ataraxis and jadzia7667** (Thank you so much!)

~ * ~

“Measles! What sort of rubbish is this, Albus?”

The normally reticent, acid-tongued Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Severus Snape, lay wrapped in a blanket on his couch in the sitting room of his chambers, speaking with the head of the school’s headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, in the green flames of the fireplace.

“Now, now, dear boy, you mustn’t get excited. It’s a viral infection, a muggle childhood disease, which one of the muggle-born first years seems to have brought to Hogwarts. It can be rather more serious for adults, my boy, and it is highly contagious, so you must be quarantined as well.”

“Quarantined! For how long, Albus? The term has just begun, I can’t be stuck in here!” Snape sputtered through teeth clenched so tight Dumbledore was afraid they would shatter.

“Usually two to three weeks, Severus, through the incubation period and then the disease itself, if it manifests at all.”

“Wonderful, cooped up in here, all alone, with nothing to do for two weeks! You could at least get me the books I need to continue my research!” The dark haired man sneered, the vague aching in his head making him crankier than usual.

“Once you are on the mend, dear boy, I will floo them into you, and you won’t be all alone, Severus, there is one other person who has been similarly exposed, never received any vaccinations, and needs to share your quarantine.”

The Headmaster’s head disappeared with a pop, and the green flames flared. With a sort of detached horror, Severus watched as a figure tumbled out of the fireplace, a bag of belongings in his hand. Harry bloody Potter, of course, he thought, closing his eyes in defeat.  
“Potter, I should have known my abysmal luck would hold today. How is it that the savior of the wizarding world never had his childhood inoculation?” The older man spat at him.

The emerald green eyes, usually alight with laugher, seemed dull. “My relatives did not believe I was worthy of the expense or trouble, Professor.” Harry looked around the room briefly. “If you could direct me to the bathroom, sir, I’d appreciate it?”

Severus waved a hand toward the door behind him, the bathroom accessible only from his bedroom. He watched the younger man’s back disappear with a thoughtful expression. The jibe he had thrown at the man was cruel, he thought, as his mind flashed back to the bloody battlefield just outside the gates of Hogwarts where Harry had defeated the Dark Lord. It had been a little over a year ago that the evil wizard had attacked the school during the school’s Leaving Feast, interrupting the festivities for the seventh year students. . Had he not been at the young man’s side during the battle, Severus was sure that he would not have believed the sight of Fawkes dropping the sword of Godric Gryffindor into the beaten and bloody boy’s hands. With strength and power that the Potions Master believed outstripped even Albus Dumbledore’s, Potter had eliminated the greatest threat to the wizarding word with one mighty swing of the silver sword, and then collapsed.

Realizing that his feelings for the young man had deepened beyond any love he had ever felt, Severus had carried the unconscious wizard to the hospital wing that day, and stood vigil over him until he had awoken from a coma one week later. Once awake, Severus had left and had never spoken to Harry since, except for when absolutely necessary. He watched stoically from the sidelines through the celebrations that followed, surprised to find that Potter refused any accolades that singled him out or any special treatment. The boy had disappeared after graduation, reappearing just three weeks ago as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and reminded Severus on a daily basis of the deep unrequited love that lay hidden in his heart. 

Harry sighed as he struggled to get comfortable on the couch that night, the chill of the dungeons seeping through the blankets; making him wish he’d worn a t-shirt with his boxers. He grinned at the sudden though of Snape’s reaction had Harry chosen to sleep nude as he normally did. The day had passed in uncomfortable silence, Snape having retreated to his bedroom as soon as Harry had exited the bathroom. Staring at the embers in the fireplace, he had to wonder again if it had been wise to return to Hogwarts. Harry had spent the past year cramming in everything he needed to earn a teaching certificate at university, and true to his word, Albus Dumbledore had offered him the teaching position he wanted. The Headmaster was also the only person who knew of Harry’s motivation to return, the fact that he’d fallen in love with the aloof and snarly Potions Master. 

With a sigh, Harry rolled over on his back. Not that the greasy git could ever feel anything for him, he was too busy loathing and criticizing Harry at every turn. Snape still saw him as a bumbling school boy, the image of his father, the bane of his existence. Harry had no idea how to change that mindset. This was something his heart told him was worth pursuing, and he’d already spent three years eliminating the obstacles that stood in the way of his success: he was no longer a student, no longer a minor, and Voldemort no longer peered over his shoulder. Was it Lord Byron who said, “There is no instinct like that of the heart.’? 

A groan from the bedroom interrupted his thoughts, and Harry sat up. Madame Pomfrey had told him that Severus was already showing symptoms, and what he was supposed to watch for. Her main concern had been the high fever associated with this particular illness; she gave him a special medi-wand and instructions on what to do. Another groan pulled him from his warm covers and sent him tiptoeing into the bedroom. Waving up the torches with his hand, he detoured to the bathroom where he had left the special wand in his bag. 

Turning towards the bed, he could see the older man was curled into a fetal position in the middle, shivering. Sitting down next to him, Harry could feel the heat emanating from the sick man, and the wand confirmed that the fever was too high. Pulling a vial of fever reducer from the bag, he gently grasped the dark head and lifted it, pouring the potion slowly into Severus’ mouth. Of course, the man started thrashing.

“Come on, Severus, just swallow for me, please.” 

Harry crooned softly as he poured in the last of the liquid. Tossing the empty vial on the floor, he stroked the older man’s throat until he felt him swallow. As he settled the man back down into the bed, Harry knew it would take a little while for the potion to take effect, and if it didn’t work, he would have to take more drastic measures. Debating the wisdom of what he was contemplating, he mentally shrugged; it wasn’t as if he had too much to lose. Before he could have second thoughts, he slid into the bed and wrapped his arms around Severus, calming and comforting the agitated man.

The next two days and nights passed in a blur for Harry, while he tried to keep the fever from getting too high. The afternoon of the second day had been particularly trying; as Harry had to put a naked Severus into a bath of tepid water in a last ditch attempt to lower it. It had been quite a fight, a delirious Potions Master struggling against him; Harry had to climb in to the tub and hold the sobbing man to his chest, trying to reassure him with a gentle tone. They’d stayed that way for almost an hour, before the fever had dropped enough, and Harry had dried them off. Sliding back into bed, Harry had rocked the older man back to sleep. It was the middle of that night when the fever finally broke, and the hollow eyed young man was finally able to succumb to sleep, his arms securely anchoring the sick man to his chest.

Awareness slowly returned to Severus Snape. The fact that his whole body ached as if he’d just come from a Death Eater meeting, his head was pounding, and he’d had the strangest dreams, was not comforting. Even now, he could swear that strong arms held him, and a hand stroked softly through his hair. In the back of his mind, he knew he’d been very sick, and those same arms and hands had been taking care of him. As he became more aware, Severus felt the warm body next to him, the legs tangled with his, and the chest under his head. Opening his eyes, he looked up, and gasped as he met the emerald green eyes smiling down on him.

“Good morning, Sir, nice to see you awake again.” 

“Harry?” He felt groggy and unsettled, wondering how many of the hazy dreams had actually happened. 

Harry shifted and moved the older wizard into a sitting position, propping him up against the pillows. Slipping out of bed, he disappeared through the door, and it wasn’t until he returned that Severus registered that the man was naked. It dawned on him that he was too.

“Here, you need to drink this.” Harry tipped a vial to his lips, and Severus recognized a nutrient potion. “And then these, too.” A fever reducing potion and a potion for pain were swallowed obediently, a goblet of cool water was offered next, and he was amazed when Harry supported his head as he held the goblet to his lips. 

“Now, if you will tell me where your nightshirts are, I’ll get you a fresh one.”

Grabbing a fresh pair of boxers as he went to retrieve a nightshirt, Harry clothed himself as well, before he helped the Potions Master to the bathroom and then settled him back into bed. A bemused expression on his face, Severus allowed the young wizard to climb in beside him and extinguish the candles. Relaxing into the arms that came around him, he slipped back into sleep.

It was late in the day before either of them awoke again, and Harry slid out of bed quietly. Padding to the bathroom, he grabbed his robe and a pair of sweatpants out of his bag, and searched for the special cream Madame Pomfrey had given him. The series of raised pink dots that had blossomed all over the Potions Master would start to itch soon. By the time he had the tea tray ready, the older man was stirring.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Severus woke. Brushing the tangle of lank hair out of the older man’s face, he let his fingers linger on the curve of a cheek as the onyx eyes fluttered open. Noting that sleep still blurred them, Harry threw caution to the wind, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the half open lips. A gasp parted them, and Harry deepened the kiss as he felt Severus respond. Pulling back, he busied himself with tending to the sick man and pouring the tea.

“Potter, what are these?” The voice was quiet and deadly.

Glancing over, Harry saw that the older man had stretched his arm out and was contemplating the small scarlet dots that marred the skin. Smothering a laugh, he ran his fingertips over the inside of the arm, pretending not to notice the shudder that ran through the man.

“Those are measles, sir, and I have cream to rub into them as soon as you are finished with your tea.”

When he was finished, Severus allowed the younger man pull his night shirt off, and rolled obediently on to his stomach. His mind was trying to decipher what was going on. Harry had told him that he had been sick and delirious for several days with a very high fever. He remembered snatches of it, being put in the bathtub, cool cloths on his forehead, but what stood out for him were the memories of strong arms holding him and soft hands comforting him. As those same hands began soothing cool cream into his back, Severus felt for the first time that maybe he had misjudged the young wizard, and hope surged through him at the thought that his love might be returned. 

As he rubbed the cream into the tense muscles, Harry found himself enjoying the feel of the skin beneath his fingers, sending sensation straight to his groin. Working his way down the toned shoulders and back, he let his fingers linger on old scars he found there, before working past the indentation of the waist. Taking a breath, he began to talk as his hands rubbed circles over the gently curving slope of an arse cheek.

“One of the health classes I took at university had a massage therapy module, where they taught us the right way to rub in creams like these. It was strange, going to a muggle school, I mean I learned things, but it was sort of flat without the magic.” His hands and fingers worked their way down one leg and foot, and started back up the other. “I just wanted to get my classes done so I could come back.”

“Why did you want to come back?” Severus’ voice sounded breathless to his own ears, as those fingers worked their way up his thigh.

“Because this is home, and everything I have ever wanted is here at Hogwarts.” Harry told him quietly as he finished and sat back on his heels, trying to drape his bathrobe over his rigid penis.

Taking a deep breath, Severus Snape made a decision that was perhaps the hardest he had made in a very long time. Unshielding his heart and placing it firmly in the hands of the nineteen year old beside him, he rolled on to his back.

“Aren’t you going to finish?” He asked softly, watching as Harry’s eyes were drawn to the burgeoning erection he was sporting.

Emerald eyes met smoldering black, as Harry moved to straddle Severus’ thighs and poured more cream into his hands. With trembling hands, he brushed thumbs across the spotted forehead and cheeks, before leaning in to capture the lips he had framed. Just as the kiss started to catch fire, Harry pulled back, his hands continuing down Severus’ throat.

“How long?” He asked softly, eyes locked together, his hands never stopping.

“When I watched you collapse after the battle last June, I knew for sure, although it had been there for awhile.” Severus answered quietly. “And you?”

Hands and fingers rubbed cream into his shoulders, down one arm and then the other. “Since the beginning of sixth year, when I found you hurt that night in the hallway after the Death Eater meeting.” Harry said softly, applying the cream in firm circular motions across the expanse of lightly muscled chest dusted with dark hair. 

Fingers ghosted over the top of pale pink nipples, before spreading cream over a taunt abdomen and hips. Bypassing the groin, Harry rubbed cream down one thigh and leg, and then the other. Warming another dollop of cream between his hands, he leaned over and planted a kiss on the tip of a well-endowed cock, listening to the hiss that erupted from the older man, before using his hands to gently rub cream over the areas he had skipped. With a guttural groan, the Potions Master climaxed into Harry’s hands.

“I really didn’t mean to do that, you’re still sick…” 

Harry was silenced as he suddenly found himself pinned underneath the older man, his mouth being plundered and his body caressed in a heated fashion. All he could do was hang on for the ride, as sensations he’d never felt raced through his body and he came in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Sighing, Harry wrapped his arms around his love and shifted him to the side. 

“I love you, Severus Snape, but if you relapse, you are explaining it to Madame Pomfrey.”

“And I love you as well, brat, but if you hadn’t noticed, you are the one who is now running a fever.” Severus brushed a hand through the wild hair.

Harry looked at him with a trace of panic. “I’m fine, I don’t have a fever! I am not going to get the measles! You are not putting me in a tub full of cold water!” 

Severus silenced him again with a kiss. “I will be right here to take care of you, Harry, can you trust in your heart that I will always be here for you?”

Smiling softly, Harry met the glittering onyx eyes.” Yes, my heart trusts you, and as Byron said ‘There is no instinct like that of the heart.’.”


End file.
